Walk into a dive bar in Amarillo and tell the guy next to you he’s a Midwesterner. Honestly, you might get a blank stare or a polite correction, but you definitely aren't going to get a "You betcha."
There is this weird, persistent myth—mostly from people who haven't spent much time in the "flyover" states—that anything between the Appalachians and the Rockies is just one big, flat bucket of corn. People see a tractor and a silo and think, Oh, this must be the Midwest. But Texas? It’s a different beast entirely.
Is Texas the Midwest? The short answer is a hard no.
If you’re looking at a map and think "middle of the country," you're technically right. Geographically, Texas occupies a massive chunk of the central United States. But "Midwest" isn't just a compass direction. It’s a specific federal and cultural designation.
According to the U.S. Census Bureau, the Midwest is composed of exactly 12 states:
- The Great Lakes crowd: Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, Michigan, and Wisconsin.
- The Plains crowd: Iowa, Kansas, Minnesota, Missouri, Nebraska, North Dakota, and South Dakota.
Notice who isn't on the list? Texas.
The Census Bureau actually sticks Texas in the South, specifically the West South Central division alongside Oklahoma, Arkansas, and Louisiana. So, if you’re going by the "official" government rules, Texas is as Southern as a peach cobbler.
📖 Related: Hairstyles for women over 50 with round faces: What your stylist isn't telling you
Why do people keep asking if Texas is the Midwest?
The confusion usually starts in the Panhandle. If you drive through Lubbock or Amarillo, the landscape looks remarkably like Kansas or Nebraska. You’ve got the endless horizons, the massive industrial farms, and the wind that never seems to stop blowing.
There’s also the time zone thing. Texas and the vast majority of the Midwest share Central Time. When you’re looking at TV schedules or corporate regional maps, Texas often gets lumped in with the "Central" region, which people then mentally swap with "Midwest."
The cultural divide: Ranching vs. Farming
One of the biggest differences is the "cowboy" factor. The Midwest is the "Breadbasket." It’s built on the legacy of the yeoman farmer—steady, communal, and modest. Think Lutherans and Catholics. Think "Midwest Nice."
Texas is the "Wild West." Even the parts of Texas that are heavily agricultural feel more like ranching country than farming country. There is a streak of fierce individualism in Texas that feels fundamentally different from the "we’re all in this together" vibe of a Wisconsin dairy town.
The German-Czech connection
Wait, here is where it gets a little blurry. If you head into the Texas Hill Country—places like Fredericksburg or New Braunfels—you’ll find a culture that feels surprisingly Midwestern.
👉 See also: How to Sign Someone Up for Scientology: What Actually Happens and What You Need to Know
Why? Because both regions were settled by massive waves of German and Czech immigrants in the 19th century.
You’ll find the kolaches. You’ll find the beer gardens. You’ll find the polka music. Some people see these cultural overlaps and think, Okay, this is just the Midwest with more cactus. But even then, Texas puts its own spin on it. A Texas kolache is usually filled with jalapeño sausage; a Midwestern one is filled with apricot. That’s the difference in a nutshell.
Texas is actually four different states in a trench coat
The reason people struggle to categorize Texas is that it’s too big for any one label. It’s a transition zone.
- East Texas: This is the South. It’s piney woods, humidity, and Cajun influence. It’s essentially "West Louisiana."
- West Texas: This is the Southwest. Think No Country for Old Men. It’s desert, tumbleweeds, and El Paso.
- South Texas: This is the Rio Grande Valley. It is deeply influenced by Mexican culture and history.
- North Texas & the Panhandle: This is where the Midwest argument actually has a leg to stand on. Culturally and geographically, the Panhandle is an extension of the Great Plains. It feels more like Oklahoma or Kansas than it does like Houston.
But even in Amarillo, you’re still a Texan. You still pledge allegiance to the Texas flag in school. You still have that "Texas-first" identity that simply doesn't exist in the same way in, say, Indiana.
The "Texas is Texas" rule
Ask a Texan where they’re from, and they won't say "the South" or "the Southwest." They’ll say "Texas."
✨ Don't miss: Wire brush for cleaning: What most people get wrong about choosing the right bristles
There is a unique brand of "State Nationalism" here that defies regional grouping. Most Midwesterners identify strongly with their region—the Great Lakes or the Heartland—but Texans identify with the shape of the state itself.
The final verdict
So, is Texas the Midwest? No. Not legally, not culturally, and certainly not in the minds of the people who live there.
Texas is a crossroads. It’s where the South dies and the West begins. It’s the place where the humidity of the Gulf of Mexico hits the dry air of the Rockies. It borrows a little bit from everyone, but it belongs to no one else.
What you should do next:
If you really want to understand the difference, take a road trip. Start in Des Moines, Iowa, and drive south through Kansas and Oklahoma into Fort Worth, Texas. You’ll notice the shift. The "Midwest Nice" fades into "Texas Hospitality." The pop becomes soda (or just "Coke," even if it’s a Dr. Pepper). The corn turns into cattle. By the time you hit the Stockyards, you'll realize you aren't in the Midwest anymore.